


Heroes

by TokyoRose_2006



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Costumes, Desperation, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Pseudo-Incest, Romance, Rough Sex, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:37:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TokyoRose_2006/pseuds/TokyoRose_2006
Summary: Some things are worth fighting for, some worth dying for. Their city, their cause, their lives, forever intertwined. If only Bruce could see it and Dick could see anything else.





	1. Plunging

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This here is a a three-shot angst fest detailing the overly tense and woefully dramatic draw between the Caped Crusader and his first Boy Wonder, all grown up. BEWARE, the angst is strong with this one. If, for some ungodly reason, you've stumbled upon this story in the past on FF.N, please know that it is in fact my work and that I have decided to re-edit and re-post many of my stories here. That being said, please go on to enjoy the feelsy smut I so enjoyed creating. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any Batman title or media iteration; they remain the intellectual property of Bob Kane and DC Comics. I do not profit in any way from the creation of this work.

“Come on, big guy, we both know you don’t mean that,” Richard Grayson’s voice taunted cheekily.

Strong, leather covered fingers curled into a fist. “Look, Dick, I’m not _joking_. You need to leave. It’s not OK. It’s not right, this thing we’re doing. You’re…you’re like a son to me, for Christ’s sake!”

  
Bruce Wayne’s strong, deep voice resonated in the vast, cavernous space of the Batcave. He leaned heavily against the large leather chair before the Batcomputer console. A dangerous vein of frustration was channeling its way down his spine, swirling in his stomach amidst shame, rage, and unadulterated lust. The costumed man forced his fist to open. If he didn’t calm down, he would end up making yet another mistake that he couldn’t ever take back. The thought made his roiling stomach turn even more viciously.  
A handsome young face formed a smile behind the small black mask guarding its identity. Nightwing crossed his arms over the well-sculpted muscles of his chest, leaning casually against the Batmobile as if it were a desk or a chair.

“If this is all because of that whole messy “adoption” thing, don’t let it get to you. I’m a big boy now. Have been for a while.” The joking tone in Dick’s voice was fitted with a razor sharp edge.

“Stop making this into some kind of joke, Richard!” The Batman’s voice boomed in the underground cavern. “Not everything is funny. Not every conversation is a chance for you to be a smartass.”

Richard let out an exasperated sigh that only served to push Bruce’s buttons even more. “Look, Bruce,” he began gently. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just can’t help it, you know?”

Bruce matched his former protége’s sigh with his own. “No, of course you can’t. You’re too young. You don’t have any self-control. Not in the field, not at home. How could you help it?”

“Excuse me?”

The sharp lilt in the question let Bruce know that he had said just the right thing; he was getting closer to pushing Dick out of the Batcave, out of this mess, and most importantly, out of danger.

“You heard me. You’re too young, too brash. You’ve been this way since the beginning, since you were—” The older man faltered. Even now, years later, the words were hard to say to Dick’s face.

“Go ahead, Bruce, say it! Since I was what, 10? Since I was _Robin_? Since I first started sneaking into your bed?!”

The ferocity of Richard’s words took him aback. _He’s wound so tightly. This won’t take long._ Forced iciness, nothing new, but still hard to manage, especially with him, with someone so close, plastered yet another mask onto Bruce Wayne’s face. His emotions swelled within his chest, centering just beneath the symbol that rested there. That was what he had meant to be, and what he would return to being: a symbol. The idea that he could have been more, an active participant in his own life, possibly even in Dick’s... _No_.

  
“That’s not what I was going to say, Dick. I just need this...situation to stop. It’s not safe. It’s not right, it’s not going to continue—”

“But how can you just—”

“And it is not up for discussion!”

A sudden silence hushed the two men instantly. The air crackled and buzzed with tension like static between them, almost tangible. The sounds of stalactites dripping along the jagged roof of the cave and the quiet hum of the computer steps away were the only sounds for several tense moments. And then footsteps. Dick was scarcely a foot from the handsome, exhausted face of Bruce Wayne, his bright blue eyes shining up into those of his mentor. Something more than words passed between the two men, something potent and pregnant with intimacy and shared emotion. The look on Dick’s face was enough to convey what words could never have. It was too much. The weight of it pressed more painfully on Bruce’s chest than the heavy layers of leather and Kevlar that protected him night after night, and he trusted it more, trusted it with his life, his secrets, his love. He let out a soft breath.

The Caped Crusader removed his gloves and set them on the Batcomputer console. He let his gaze linger over the face before him, then laid a hand to the well-defined cheek of the young man in front of him. He ran a thumb over his high, clear cheekbone. The smoothness of the skin only deepened the pain he felt. There were no scars, no telltale roughness beneath the skin from repeatedly broken bones, hardly even the presence of stubble on the soft skin. With his other hand, Bruce carefully pulled the small, black mask from his ward’s face.

“Richard, I was like you once. I was young and eager, and I thought I could do everything. Anything. I was running on hate and vengeance, looking for something to destroy; I mistook my rage for strength. I thought it would help me. I thought I knew what I needed, knew what I was doing and why; I was so _sure_.” He stroked the young face with his fingers and didn’t flinch when a gloved hand rose to cover his own.

“But I was just being selfish. We’ve both seen the evil that can come from selfishness. The pain of broken promises, the pain of loss.” Bruce tried to show the younger man through his pleading blue eyes what he was trying to say, what was too painful to say, even for him.

Dick’s hand lightly touched Batman’s face, avoiding the healing bruises on Bruce’s flesh. ”Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, Bruce. I can take care of myself. You know I can. Haven’t I shown you that in all these years? Stop living in the past. Please. I know you’re tired of being lonely. I know you’re tired of being tired. I can help you. More than I do now as Nightwing,” he smoothed a soft black lock of hair from Bruce’s face. “More than I ever could as Robin.”

It was all too much. The emotions, the fatigue, the daily draining of his will to survive, the antagonizing loneliness. He had tried to push Dick away, had tried to scare him off, had tried everything but the one thing that the young hero had begged from him. It hurt to see the genuine sadness in such usually bright and lively eyes. Sadness for him, tortured Bruce Wayne, and sadness for lonely, aching Batman. In a far too rare show of true emotion, Bruce tugged Richard’s face closer to his. Theirs noses were nearly brushing. He could feel the damp heat of the other’s breath against his mouth, smell the sweat dried on his forehead and lilting scent of his shampoo.

“Just be Dick Grayson. That’s all I ever wanted for you. I thought I could help you by making you into Robin, into a symbol like me. I thought I could push you, mold you into my image and give you focus and a purpose. I thought the cowl could help you heal. But all I did, all I’ve ever done, is hurt you." He felt Dick’s breath hitch. The slight movement of his lips brushed their mouths together in a shadow of a kiss.

  
“I tried to show you that being with me was nothing to want. That I was nothing you should want, less than you deserved. I wanted you to be happy and free in all the ways I’m not and can never be. I care too much for you to let you become a pawn in the dangerous game I live. I couldn’t bear the pain of losing another Robin...another son.” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t live with myself if I lost you too.”

The sudden emotional onslaught left Bruce feeling naked, empty, and weak, despite the cape fluttering at his heels and the pounds of armor still strapped to his bruised body. A quivering void had formed in his gut where all of his silent, festering fears had been building before the moment had rent them from him. For all his anguish, though, he couldn’t bring his eyes from those of the young man’s before him, not even as a single tear beaded within them and slowly slid from one cerulean eye down onto his thumb.

“Please, Bruce,”

The voice that parted Richard’s lips was tremulous and moist with unshed tears. It wasn’t the voice of Nightwing, the voice of Robin, or the voice of the witty, cocky Dick Grayson that Bruce and Alfred had amusedly endured over the years. It was the voice of a man on the edge, and it was all too familiar.

“Just give me a chance. A real, solid chance. I don’t want to crawl into bed with you in the dead of night or watch you from the rooftops, not anymore. Let me be there for you. Let me carry some of the burden that weighs you down. Give me the option of being your partner, not your sidekick or your backup. I want to be with you. I want Gotham’s billionaire playboy and mysterious masked protector. I want to be to you what no one else has gotten to be.

“I want to be yours. Don’t you think I understand? We both lost everything to this city, and if you’ve taught me anything, it’s that in it somewhere, deep under the grime and the evil, there was something about Gotham that was worth saving. Something worth the capes and the bruises and the near death experiences. Can’t it be this? Can’t it be _us_?!”

Bruce winced at the intensity of the outburst. It shook in his teeth from their closeness and in his bones from its sheer rawness. His hands tightened on Dick’s face, pulling him close enough to plant his lips gently, barely, on the plump, soft mouth scant inches below his own. The kiss was the type that made the soul ache. Too short, too potent, too sweet, too everything, all at once before Bruce pulled away. He dropped his hands from the smooth, damp skin of Nightwing’s face and made to turn away. Not seconds after his palms fell away, soft fingers were grasping them, replacing them on a lithe, costumed form. Bruce’s fingers flexed around Dick’s hips for a moment before pushing him back several steps, putting an arm’s length between them.

“Is that how you’re saying no this time?”

The words pained the Batman to a deeper extent than he’d imagined they would, but he’d expected them. He turned his head from Richard, unable to stand the sight of eyes that he knew would share the same heartbreaking incredulity of his voice. He let his own eyes slide shut for just a moment as he attempted to quickly gather his racing thoughts. A stark moment passed before he turned bodily and let his feet carry him to the edge of the platform on which they had been standing and leaped into the dark, yawning maw of the Batcave. The older man thought he heard a shout behind him, but ignored it as he fell.

  
His body dropping rapidly past the ancient wet rock, a sudden type of calmness suddenly settled over Bruce not seconds before his booted feet found purchase against the base of a cut stone staircase. He began to walk forward and had not gotten more than two steps before a second pair of feet landed just behind him.

“I’m not letting you run away.” Dick’s voice was stern and deep, not a single vestige of the earlier all-encompassing emotion clinging to it. The sound reminded Bruce again too much of his own, and an unnameable feeling coiled in his stomach.

Bruce continued up the stairs, never once halting to acknowledge the presence behind him. “I never said you couldn’t follow me.”


	2. Collapsing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go, freshly edited for your viewing pleasure. Time to get ~spicy~
> 
> Warning: Mature Sexual Content
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own rights to any Batman title or media iteration; they remain the intellectual property of Bob Kane and DC Comics. I do not profit in any way from the creation of this work.

It was a slow, steep climb. The occasional sound of boots squelching and the quiet, infrequent hiss of hands sliding on moist rock echoed in the tight chamber, the only relief from the deafening silence. It was too dark to see. Bruce led the way regardless, never missing a step, before coming to a sudden stop at what seemed to be a small dais at the very top of the stairwell. He pressed three of his fingers into what could have passed for natural holes in the wet stone and stepped back. Within seconds the wall sprang open.

Bruce ducked inside the new opening, waiting patiently for Dick to follow before pulling the stone door back into place. The slab’s edges blended seamlessly with the delicately painted wall of the room they had entered. Even the molding appeared untouched, as genteel and unblemished as the day it was placed within Wayne Manor.    

“Don’t tell me this is—”

Dick’s words were swallowed by Bruce’s chapped lips before he could finish his incredulous statement. The younger man’s hands instinctively rose to the other’s shoulders, fingers spasming in the silky material of the cape there. His blue eyes slid shut, mind blanking to everything but the sensation of his once mentor’s mouth claiming his, lips pushing down forcefully, his breath mingling with Bruce’s in the wet cavern they now shared. Dick’s body pressed forward of its own volition, fingers pulling and hips jutting forward.

The movement caused the two costumed bodies to slip together, their hips slotting against each other in a teasing hint of the friction that they could so easily create between them. Bruce pulled back suddenly, one of his hands gripping Dick’s hip tightly and walking him back a step. His dark, lined eyes stared deeply into those of the man before him. 

“Dick, listen to me.” Bruce tangled his fingers in Richard’s soft, black hair. “I know you want this. You know I can give it to you. But what then? What happens in the light of day? In the space between being Bruce Wayne and being Batman, where will we stand?”

Confusion etched itself across Dick’s face for several harsh moments, his lips trembling, wanting to answer with a kiss, but strong fingers kept him from doing so. He drew a breath and a small smile raised the corner of his struggling lips.

“Well, we can do it standing if you want.”

“Richard,” Bruce’s voice made it apparent that his joke wasn’t appreciated.

Dick swallowed to coat his throat, suddenly dry from a mixture of nerves and the jolt of arousal that shot through him at the feel of Bruce’s fingers pulling roughly at his hair. His fingers tightened in the familiar cape beneath them. “There is no space between them. The two exist together inside you. They always will.” He pulled the man closer still by the silky fabric draped across his shoulders. “But, when you’re not running from rooftop to rooftop and I’m not following behind, I’ll be me—just Dick. And I’ll be beside you. Always, Batman.” 

It had been so long since he’d used the true name of Gotham’s dark savior, the exhausted, imploring man before him. It tasted foreign on his tongue. He longed to rid his mouth of the flavor with another, but Bruce’s digits twisted deeper into his locks, pulling his head back to look directly into his eyes.

“I can’t lose you, Dick.” 

The acrobat released one armored shoulder. He reached an arm up, behind his head, and twined his fingers with those already nestled there. 

“Then never let me go.”

The words fell directly from Dick’s mouth to Bruce’s, the sound nearly lost in the ferocity of the older man’s kiss. Lips collided, then teeth, and finally, finally tongues, twirling and sliding. The sensation of the two muscles coming together set free something in both men that neither could attempt to describe. Both sets of eyes slid shut simultaneously, blocking out everything but the wet noises of their kiss, the heat of their mouths. 

Long, thin fingers set to work divesting Bruce’s chest of the thick, heavy layers of wire mesh and leather that kept him safe every night on the streets of Gotham. The multitude of clips, zippers, and ties frustrated the eager digits. A dejected huff entered what little space there was between Dick’s lips and Bruce’s as the younger man gave up, his hands opting instead to slide up Bruce’s neck and bury in his hair. A small smile played on the Batman’s lips as he pulled away just far enough to speak.

“All these years and you can’t get this off? Weren’t you watching?” Bruce taunted quietly, his strong, calloused hands making quick work of the top portion of his costume. It fell to the floor in several heavy pieces, each landing with a distinct thud. He raised his slight mocking grin at the other man in challenge. 

“No,” Dick answered, grabbing for Bruce’s hips and pulling them closer again. “I was too busy learning how to do this.”

The smile in the acrobat’s voice was unmistakable as he deftly unclasped the various clasps and buckles securing the bright yellow utility belt from the costume’s waist and placed it gently on the floor before beginning to pull down the tight leggings that followed. Bruce’s smirk stayed firmly in place as he allowed Dick to pull his pants and undergarments down his thighs until he stood in nothing but a black jockstrap. As the limber man rose, the elder raised a hand to the back of Dick’s neck.

“Don’t get cocky. All you have is a zipper.”

In seemingly one long, fluid motion, Dick found himself naked save for a pair of tight black briefs and folded into Bruce’s strong, warm embrace. He could feel the pulsing of the man’s large, powerful muscles around him. The scent of him, still a trace of designer cologne under the scent of Gotham’s pollution and the musk of his sweat, enveloped Dick’s smaller frame. He wondered how Bruce could have ever worried for his safety when in this moment, this place in time, he felt like nothing in all of Gotham or all of the world could hurt him. 

When their lips met for the second and third time, it was different. The warmth, the pent-up emotion was still present, as strong as ever, but now, it seemed, a fire was lit in the bellies of the two men. Dick’s body molded to Bruce’s in a new and exciting way. Almost naked, an excitement shot down his spine to rest in the small of his back where the older man’s hands were holding him. He moved his lips against the harsh movements of his partner’s, but couldn’t seem to keep up. His tongue ventured out of his own mouth to lick at the inside of Bruce’s lips, but was soon captured between strong teeth in a clear declaration of dominance. The thrill of it surprised him.

Bruce’s hands slid down, grabbing hold of Dick’s slim hips and pushing him backward, toward the large, elegant bed near the center of the room. The headboard was ornately carved with a large Wayne family crest engraved in the middle and accented with gold leaf. The stature of it, the reality of who it belonged to and what it meant to fall nearly nude onto it in the face of only its owner and the pale moon shining outside the window made Dick gasp and buck his hips upward, craving more friction, more touch, more Bruce.

As the muscular form of his lover lowered onto his own, Dick let out a soft groan. Their hips aligned perfectly lying down, despite their slight difference in height. Only the two thin layers of cotton they still wore, clinging with sweat and the beading liquid excitement of what was to come, was keeping their most intimate flesh from touching. The fact rushed to Dick’s head, adding to his dizzy readiness to finally be with Bruce the very way he’d wanted and been denied for years now.

His quiet sound of pleasure did not land on deaf ears. The small, nearly innocuous, affirmation of his actions fueled Bruce into a frenzy of motion. His lips claimed the softer set beneath him ferociously, his hips grinding into those flush against his own. A rumbling growl left him, filling what little space between their mouths existed with audible proof of his mounting passion. He couldn’t stop himself from catching Dick’s delicate lips between his teeth. 

Another gentle moan slipped sensuously from Dick’s mouth. It travelled like a lightning bolt to Bruce’s groin, making him grind down on his young partner. The delicious friction plucked sounds of pleasure from both men as the acrobat rolled his hips upward in response. Bruce groaned at the feeling of their hardening members pressing flush. He tore his mouth from Dick’s just long enough to attach it to the underside of his jaw. 

He left a trail of hot kisses from Dick’s jaw to his neck. As his teeth grazed the skin at Richard’s pulse, the younger man released a strangled moan. Bruce pulled back just enough that his breath came in warm huffs against the other’s flesh.

“Sensitive?” His voice was little more than a growl, but still managed to carry the slightest hint of sarcasm. 

“I’d tell you,” Dick’s fingers twined in Bruce’s dark locks. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

A breathy chuckle became an airy moan as the Batman’s lips attacked Dick’s pulse with abandon. Jolts of pleasure were travelling down the acrobat’s spine. It felt so good to be with Bruce finally, together in the way he’d always dreamed. His body was arching and pushing against Bruce’s in response to how the older man was handling him. He was so hard, so ready for more, for everything that Bruce could give him. Dick tightened his hold on the older man’s hair. 

“Nn, please,” he groaned softly.

Bruce took the skin of Dick’s neck between his teeth, biting down hard enough to leave a mark and eliciting a soft cry from the young man beneath him.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growled, releasing the skin in favor of continuing his trail down Dick’s body.

“Bruce—Fuck!”

Dick’s half-coherent rebuttal was interrupted by Bruce’s lips, tongue, and teeth making their way to his nipple. The acrobat gasped, both hands flying to grip Bruce’s hair, pushing him closer to the sensitive nub being sensually abused. Dick tried a second time to reply to Bruce’s statement, only to be silenced by a slow grind of teeth against his flesh.

“You have no idea what I could do to you, Dick, how I could make you feel, the things I could make you want.” Bruce’s fingers began toying with the man’s other nipple, pinching it harshly. “But if you think you know what you want,” he growled through Dick’s groans, “then tell me.”

“ _ Bruce _ ,” 

Dick’s moans were becoming more akin to whines, high pitched and breathy. The younger man was beginning to unwind, and Bruce could tell. A small smirk found his lips, even as they tortured his partner in the sweetest of ways.

“You already have me,” Bruce murmured. His lips left the now smarting red nubs of Dick’s chest and finally began moving downward. 

“Touch me! Please, Bruce, God, touch me,” Dick punctuated his plea with a wanton roll of his slim hips. His member was rigid, grinding into Bruce’s abdomen with every shift and wriggle. 

The Batman sucked the skin of one of Richard’s well-defined abdominal muscles into his mouth. Laving it with his tongue, Bruce raised his hands from their places on Dick’s hips to his ribcage. He ghosted his fingers down his partner’s sides, fingertips just barely gliding along the soft, hairless skin. He repeated the action until Dick bucked his hips again with a pleading moan.

“Please…” Dick’s quiet plea trailed off into panting breath.  

Bruce closed his eyes as he continued down the tight, muscular body. He had lost count now of the number of fantasies he had had about his once sidekick. The images he saw at night so closely mirrored those before him that his own hardness stirred. He had intended to draw out this first experience, make it into everything he wanted and knew that Nightwing wanted in return, but now, presented with the squirming, moaning reality of the situation, Bruce could no longer wait. He had to touch this man, to taste him, to be inside of him.

The older man rose from his partner’s muscled abdomen to look at him. Dick’s vividly blue eyes were nearly shut. Only a thin line of oceanic iris shone through thick, sooty lashes, clouded with lust. His full lips were parted, swollen with the fury of Bruce’s passion, taking in shallow breaths and releasing soft pants. A light sheen of perspiration clung to the young man’s body. His skin glistened in the dim light cast by the moon through the high windows. He almost seemed to glow.

Bruce reached out a hand and caressed the well-defined line of Richard’s jaw. The younger man turned his head into the touch, his lips finding Bruce’s hand and littering it with small kisses. A quivering warmness filled Bruce’s chest and dampened the raging fire of lust that had been burning there. He turned his partner’s head to face him and ran his thumb along his pouty bottom lip. Leaning down, Bruce rested his forehead against Dick’s.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a near whisper before taking Richard’s mouth once more in a searing kiss. 

Dick’s lips yielded immediately to those of the man above him. His eyes slid shut as he savored the feeling of this warm, firm meshing of mouths. The gentle pressure of Bruce’s tongue at the seam of his lips prompted him to open, allowing that strong, wet muscle to plunder his mouth, dominating his tongue. 

The acrobat wrapped his arms around Bruce’s neck, pulling the hero closer. His fingers threaded in the soft hair just above the Batman’s muscled shoulders. Closer now, the two toned bodies again slid together perfectly. Bruce’s throbbing manhood was directly above his own, separated by a layer of thin black cloth, rubbing teasingly against him with every movement. A soft groan leaked from him at the gentle friction.

At the sound, Bruce lowered his body almost completely onto Dick’s, grinding his hardness into his partner’s and causing Dick to moan loudly into the shared cavern of their mouths. Bruce broke the kiss to hear it echo throughout the room before resealing his mouth to the soft lips below him. 

He released Dick’s jaw to trail his fingers softly over the smaller man’s shoulders and down his arms. His calloused digits slid gently down Dick’s ribcage and waist to rest on slim hips. They lingered for a moment before hooking beneath the waistband of Dick’s briefs. Bruce halted the heated kiss, pulling back until his lips just barely hovered over those of his bedmate. Their heated breath mingled in the small, damp space between their mouths. His eyes slid open to half-mast as he brought his own fingers down and tugged down the soft black fabric. 

Dick’s eyes opened to meet his, the slightest hint of apprehension in their depths beneath the lust clouding them. He searched Bruce’s face for encouragement, his eyes scanning the deep blue eyes and gentle lines for an answer. It came in the form of Bruce’s lips gently pressing against his temple, then his cheek, and his jaw before brushing softly against his lips. The intimacy of the action warmed Dick’s cheeks. He knew he was blushing, and turned his head in order to hide it as a new warmth began to blossom in his chest.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in Bruce’s chest. The older man pressed his lips to Dick’s neck, tugging his underwear down farther to stretch between his muscled thighs. 

“It’s a little late for modesty, isn’t it?” Bruce chided huskily against the man’s flesh. 

Dick’s lips pulled into a small smile as he turned to look at Bruce with widened eyes when he felt the proof of his excitement bob between his legs. “I guess it is,” he answered, hoping that he didn’t sound as anxious as he was beginning to feel.

Bruce’s smile faded into a look of gentle understanding. The acrobat beneath him glanced away again, clearly anxious, and swallowed nervously. His eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Bruce felt his erection wilt a bit.  _ He’s not ready. This was a mistake. What am I—  _ His thoughts were interrupted as he felt Dick’s soft hands brush against his own. Nightwing’s long, thin fingers wriggled beneath his briefs and pulled them down farther. The younger man’s hips rose just enough to slip the small garment from underneath him, brushing the damp tip of his erection against Bruce’s well-muscled abdomen. Dick held his underwear in his hand for just a moment before dropping them to the floor with a soft, quiet sound.

He turned to look at Bruce, a light dusting of blush still clinging to his high cheekbones, a slight grin on his lips. The Batman felt a small, yet genuine smile creep onto his face. Dick’s blush intensified, the rarity of the event making him feel already like a treasured, beloved, partner and not like a sidekick at all. Bruce brushed a lock of slightly sweat-dampened hair from Dick’s face and kissed his lips almost chastely. 

“You had me worried there for a second,” Bruce admitted, the fingers of his unoccupied hand tracing the curve of Dick’s groin.

“Well, I’m here to keep you on your toes,” Dick replied airily, the proximity of his partner to his hardened length more than distracting. 

Bruce smirked, pressing his lips slowly against Dick’s and pulling away. “That you are.”

The older man lowered his head as if to kiss the once Boy Wonder again, but instead trailed his nose against Dick’s well-defined jaw. He continued his trail over his collarbone, over muscled pectorals, and then more slowly over the lithe man’s tight, sculpted abdomen, his fingertips dragging lightly beside, following his descent. For a moment, Bruce remained still, his head inches from the dripping length of his partner, one hand nearly grazing the stiffened shaft. Doubts resurfaced, his conscience echoed in his mind that this was wrong, dangerous, that someone was going to get hurt. He wanted to continue, his body screaming for him to take advantage of the willing man beneath him, but something stopped him just short of doing so. 

He nuzzled the trail of soft black hair that led to the object of his desire, deep in concentration.  _ He has no idea what he’s getting into. All of Gotham is my enemy, how could I possibly make him another thing that the darkness of this city wants to take from me? He’s just a kid.  _ His thoughts whirled around him until his reverie was broken by the body beneath him shifting. He looked up to see Dick sprawled on the bed, eyes shut, hair disheveled, one arm resting on his sculpted chest, the other bent at his side, his fingers resting just on the edge of his open, panting mouth. The image cut straight through his doubt and shot to Bruce’s groin.

Bruce took in the man wantonly strewn before him. His defenses finally down, no mask, no costume, no smarmy grin or razor sharp wit, Richard really was beautiful. And only he was gifted that sight. Nightwing trusted only him enough to bare himself completely and let go of the heavy weight of a defender’s responsibility and just be Richard Grayson. Bruce knew that if there was any doubt in Dick’s mind, he would never have let Bruce this close. It settled his fears and reignited the flame of desire in him. He couldn’t wait any longer. Unsure or not, Dick had to be his, right here, tonight.


End file.
